


the fault lines between us

by catteo



Series: the fault lines between civilizations will be the battle lines of the future [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Gen, Skyeward looms fairly large in this, although Skye has yet to appear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-17 19:36:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3541460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catteo/pseuds/catteo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set immediately post 2x10. Kara and Ward go on the run and, in the process, learn a lot more about who they really are.</p><p>I expect canon will rain all over this before long and so this should be regarded as entirely AU. Unless I can read the writers' minds, in which case:<br/>a) it would be a first (and my heart would be less broken)<br/>and<br/>b) I would be delighted</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> I just really love the idea that Kara and Ward will be there for each other and try to help each other through all the shit that's going down at the moment. Kara's desperate to get her memories back and Ward, well, he's torn between wanting to forget everything and being desperate to remember every tiny detail. This is the one where Kara and Ward start off as partners but somehow become friends. 
> 
> Although this is entirely Kara and Ward at this point, various other members of the team will make an appearance, and you may have already seen the missing scene where Skye lets her emotions get the better of her. That's rather a long way in the future at this stage. I'm so mean.

Agent 33 isn’t entirely sure why she decides to trust the man lying in front of her. There’s a dark crimson stain spreading slowly across the floor from the wounds in his side and Grant looks completely bereft. Somehow though, despite the look on his face, his words have the ring of hope and the offer of a future. It seems as though he’s promising her a purpose that she thought had died along with Whitehall. It only takes a moment for her to realize that she’s certainly better off with a partner than she’ll ever be alone. From the looks of things, he’s not doing particularly well on his own either at the moment. She wonders who the hell he managed to piss off enough to do this to him.

 

 

She’s almost surprised to find that two of the bullets have ended up embedded in some sort of Kevlar panel under his jacket. The others seem to have been placed with alarming precision, causing nothing more than flesh wounds. The amount of blood coming from one of the injuries does, however, suggest that he’s not going to be much use to her if she doesn’t patch him up soon. Some part of her reacts on instinct -- pressure to the wound, tight bindings made from strips of cloth torn from drapes in one of the rooms -- as she half-carries and half-drags him through a building that seems to be threatening to come apart around them.

 

 

Outside, the world is chaos. Buildings that have stood for centuries are crumbling to rubble and dust, the stories of their owners strewn across the ground for anyone to pick through. Trees lie uprooted in the streets, and the sound of screaming burrows under Agent 33’s skin, twisting vine-like around the vibrations she feels in her bones. She assesses their options with an ease born of long practice. They need to get off the streets, but a car is clearly out of the question. She hesitates for a moment, considering her next move.

 

 

“Jet.” Grant mumbles it against her shoulder. She kicks herself for not having thought of it first. She adjusts course and heads towards the landing pad, praying that the damage there isn’t as severe. The further they get from the Hydra building, the quieter it becomes. Eventually the tremors are felt as nothing more than a low hum, just beyond her ability to hear. She’s grateful when they finally reach the jet, both of them slumping into the seats in the cockpit. Kara checks Grant’s wounds, relieved that the bleeding seems to have slowed, before taking the controls and starting the engines. She feels an inexplicable surge of triumph as they leave Puerto Rico behind. 

 

 

“What’s your name?” He’s been so quiet that she thought he might have passed out. His face is pale and there’s a light sheen of sweat on his forehead. Breathing is clearly causing Grant effort, his breath catching on every pained inhale, and she wonders if one of the bullets cracked a rib. He coughs and, for a minute, she thinks that he might throw up. He somehow manages to get himself under control and regards her once again with eyes that seem to look straight through her.

 

 

“Agent 33.” It comes to her with absolute clarity, bright in the dark confusion of the rest of her thoughts.

 

 

“That’s not a name. That’s a serial number.” He sounds disgusted. She remembers that tone. Remembers hearing it in her own voice as she screamed at a man who was trying to change her. The memory is hazy apart from that. Unfocussed.

 

 

“Can I choose my own? Is that something that people do?” She hates the way that she finds herself asking for permission. It feels foreign. Like something that she’s being made to do. As though her mind’s trying to fight off the compulsion to please.

 

 

“Yeah.” He bites the word off, barely out of his mouth, and she can see the shadows gathering on his face. She wonders who he’s thinking of. What they meant to him. He turns his face away from her, stares out at the clouds as she thinks.

 

 

“Kara, then.” It rolls off her tongue with disconcerting ease. “And you’re Grant.” It’s one of the few things that she actually remembers.

 

 

“Ward.” He doesn’t even look at her as he says it. She can almost hear the spaces that surround the word, missing pieces that she thinks might tell her everything that he is. But Ward’s not telling her that part of the story. They have names to call each other by now though. It’s a start.

 

 

They fly through the night, Kara heading for the co-ordinates that Ward gives her. He won’t tell her anything more than that they’re headed for a safe-house, but Kara’s pulled up the maps. She knows that he’s taking them to a forest, miles from the nearest settlement. She understands that it’s a necessary choice, smart for them to stay off the grid. Part of her wonders how they’re going to figure anything out if it’s just the two of them stuck in a cabin in the woods. She acknowledges the irony that she, of all people, is also slightly concerned that she’ll be sharing space with a killer.

 

 

“Do you work for Hydra?” Kara’s not willing to make assumptions at a time like this. She needs to know if this is truly the fresh start that it seems to be.

 

 

“No.” It’s all Ward offers her. No explanation and no sense that he’ll be expanding on his response.

 

 

“SHIELD?” Kara’s not sure how she feels about SHIELD. She knows that they’re supposed to be the enemy, but there’s a thought pushing at the edges of her awareness, a feeling that things aren’t as black and white as that.

 

 

“No.” He hesitates this time, she’s sure of it, but when she looks at him he’s shifting in his seat, left hand gripping his chest, with a look of pain on his face. There’s fresh blood on his fingers and Kara busies herself re-dressing his wounds. It’s a welcome distraction from the headache that she can feel building at the base of her skull.

 

 

By the time they reach their landing spot it’s pitch black outside. Kara’s worried that there might be trees in their path, but Ward simply switches the controls over so that he can bring the jet down. She’s glad of the fact that she doesn’t have to concentrate any more since the dull ache from earlier has crescendoed to a painful throbbing that shoots through her temples with every heartbeat. She stumbles as she gets up from her seat.

 

 

“You okay?” Ward sounds worried, and she’s amused for a moment that the guy with two bullet-holes in his side is concerned for the woman with a headache. 

 

 

“Totally fine.” The words are barely out of her mouth before the floor flies up to meet her and her vision goes dark.

 

 

++++

 

 

Kara’s lost. She twists in a hectic landscape, grey storm clouds slashed through with black and crimson, the heady scent of iron surrounding her. There’s a voice in the distance, calm tone and reassuring phrases, but the surge of terror that it invokes almost paralyses her with fear. She tries to find the strength to run, but realizes that she’s bound, hand and foot, to a mass of seething darkness. She opens her mouth to scream, but instead hears her own voice, utterly composed.

 

 

_Happy to comply_

 

 

Every muscle in her body is tense with the effort of keeping still. She wants to let go, to rip herself limb from limb in her efforts to escape this alien place. But no matter how much she thinks about fighting, her body stubbornly refuses to obey. She stands, trapped in her own flesh, betrayed by sinew and bone, waiting for orders. Her lungs are burning, vision blurring around the edges, a white haze settling over the darkness and she realizes that she’s not breathing. She sucks in a breath, but her lungs stubbornly refuse to fill and she’s going to die here. Alone.

 

 

The thought somehow breaks through the command that’s keeping her still, dulling her senses to complacency. Kara feels her fingers start to move, arms finally obeying the commands that she’s frantically screaming at them. She tears herself free from the grasping tendrils that try to keep her bound, and she begins to fight. 

 

 

Kara feels her fist connect with something solid and, in that instant, her body snaps into the present. Her eyes open to find Ward sprawled on the floor, a bright spot of red beginning to bloom across the hand he has clutched to his chest. Kara’s lightheaded, unsteady as she swings her legs to the ground, as though she’s been without air for too long.

 

 

“Sorry.” Ward coughs with the effort of speaking, fresh blood bubbling out between his fingers. “I didn’t know what else to do. You needed to fight.” 

 

 

“What are you talking about?” Kara’s voice is rough, as though from overuse. Her throat aches, and she feels like she’s been screaming for hours.

 

 

“You wouldn’t wake up. Obviously an upgrade from the original programming. In case you start to remember who you are.” Ward’s words come out only a few at a time, labored breaths gasped between phrases. His face is flushed as he sits, leaning forward, one hand braced on the floor. “I had to make your brain think you were dying. Stopped you from breathing.” 

 

 

“Did I do that?” Kara pushes herself to her feet, trying to distract herself from the fact that she’s not really the one having trouble breathing, and gesturing at Ward’s chest.

 

 

“No. I did this to myself.” His words drift into silence, and Kara wonders for a moment if he’s being literal. But Ward’s sitting motionless, mouth working as he gasps for air. The right side of his chest is completely still and Kara feels an icy tongue of fear skate down her spine. Ward’s eyes lock with hers, and she sees her own terror reflected back at her. 

 

 

Kara’s moving before she consciously registers that she has to do something, desperately searching the room for what she needs. The drawers are empty, nothing but hangers in the closet, and only the bags dumped near the door appear to hold anything that might be useful. Ward’s eyes follow her every movement, but she can see the bounding pulse at his throat beginning to slow and she knows that she has to act fast. 

 

 

There’s a canister of gun oil tucked into the side of one of the bags, straw still taped to the side, and Kara grabs it, before taking one of the metal coat-hangers from the closet. She rushes back to Ward’s side, straightening the hook of the hanger as she kneels beside him. She doesn’t stop to question where the knowledge comes from, just shoves the metal through the lumen of the straw before pushing Ward backwards.

 

 

“This is going to hurt.” Kara pulls the collar of Ward’s shirt down, fingers skipping over ribs, counting as she goes. He nods, once, as his eyes slide closed, the purple tinge around his lips darkening.

 

 

Kara pulls her hand back and slams her makeshift cannula into the gap between bones. Ward barely flinches and, with trebling fingers, she pulls the hanger out of the straw. She’s rewarded with a hiss of air and Ward gasps, struggling to sit up. Kara pins him to the ground with her knee, one hand holding the straw as though her life depends on it. The thought strikes her as utterly hilarious and her hysterical giggle breaks the silence.

 

 

“Glad you think this is funny.” Ward’s voice is weak, but it’s _there_ and his color’s returning to normal. Kara manages to choke back the laughter that’s threatening to take over.

 

 

“You think you can lie still now?” Kara has no intention of letting go until she’s sure that Ward will behave himself. He makes a noise in the affirmative and Kara goes back to rummaging through the bags, raising an eyebrow at Ward as she pulls out a roll of duct-tape.

 

 

“Never know when it might be useful.” One side of his mouth hitches up, and it’s the closest thing she’s seen to a real smile in a long time. She rolls her eyes at him and busies herself ripping pieces off the roll of tape, lifting his shirt to place them carefully over the bullet holes in his side. They each have an exit wound, but Kara has no idea if they, or the broken ribs, are to blame for Ward’s current condition. She’s not taking any chances.

 

 

“Gloves?” Kara asks.

 

 

“Side pocket.” Ward gestures to one of the bags with his chin. He’s still holding the straw, despite the fact that Kara has taped it securely in place.

 

 

“You can let go, you know. It’s not going to fall out.” She half expects him to ignore her, pleasantly surprised when he drops his hand to his side, letting out a shaky breath as he does. Kara uses her teeth to tear a finger off one of the gloves she finds, uses her coat-hanger to poke a hole in the end, and tapes it securely over the straw. They both watch, fascinated, as it rises and falls with each breath Ward takes.

 

 

“That was pretty impressive.” Ward pauses, as though he’s making up his mind about something. “How did you know what to do?” 

 

 

“I think I’ve done it before.” She tries to remember, but she can feel the darkness of her nightmare threatening to drag her back under. She forces her thoughts back to the present. “I can’t remember.”

 

 

“You will.” The way Ward says it sounds like a promise, but Kara has no idea how he thinks he can offer her back her past. She appreciates the gesture though, however futile. 

 

 

“You should rest.” Kara changes the subject, fearful of embracing the hope rising in her chest. She gets an arm under Ward’s shoulders, careful not to dislodge the tube sticking out of his chest, helping him up, and he awkwardly maneuvers onto the bed.

 

 

“Kara.” He says her name as she’s about to walk out of the room in search of a drink. “Thanks.”

 

 

“You’re welcome.” She hopes he doesn’t make her regret it.


	2. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which things go from bad to worse. Because that's how I roll.

Kara wakes in the night, disoriented, unsure why her hand is reaching for a gun that isn’t there. For a minute all she can hear is the sound of her own heartbeat, strong and steady, but then Ward’s cry shatters the silence. She can’t quite make out the words through the wood of the door, but she recognizes the tone well enough. It’s half pleading and half hopeful and she shakes her head to clear it of the remnants of her dreams, tries to remember where she’s heard that same note of sorrow before. Her memory presents her with nothing but a void; a dark foreboding in place of the images that she knows should be there. Kara shifts to sitting, gingerly places her feet onto the cool wooden floor, and moves towards Ward’s voice.

 

 

 

 

 

Words begin to take shape as she draws closer to the door of Ward’s room, standing slightly ajar, just as she left it when she checked on him hours ago. He’d seemed to be sleeping peacefully so she’d headed to her own bed. She hadn’t wanted to disturb the fragile peace that they were building with intrusive questions. Now, though, she can hear him tossing fitfully, a garbled nonsense of words reaching her ears, punctuated with a name repeated over and over.

 

 

 

 

 

“Skye, please…” Ward’s voice breaks and Kara feels her stomach drop at the devastation she hears there. In that moment she feels as though she understands Ward completely. She knows what it’s like to lose everything.

 

 

 

 

 

“Ward, it’s me, Kara.” Kara pushes the door all the way open. The moonlight coming through the open curtains gives her just enough light to see that Ward’s still asleep. The sheets are wrapped around him like ropes, tying him to the bed, and he’s fighting weakly against the restraints. “Ward?” She says his name slightly louder this time, switches on the lamp by the door before she walks slowly over to his bed.

 

 

 

 

 

“Skye…” Ward’s hands are clenched into fists and his cheeks are flushed with fever. Kara feels her stomach twist as a sense of dread surges through her body. She has no idea how she’s going to get manage without him. Kara reaches out and touches his arm as lightly as she can, not wanting to startle him -- she’s seen the contents of his bags and the last thing she needs is for him to think she’s an enemy. His skin is bone dry under her palm, and burning hot in the cool room.

 

 

 

 

 

“Ward?” Kara raises her voice a fraction, aware of the edge of panic lacing the words. She heaves a grateful sigh of relief as Ward’s eyelids flutter open and his breathing starts to even out. “Hey. You were dreaming.” Kara’s generous with the truth, not wanting to let him know that she can practically touch the nightmares that wrap themselves around him. She can see Ward struggling to get his emotions under control, to present the calm face that she knows now is nothing more than an act. She suddenly feels a sense of kinship with this man who suddenly seems so unsure of himself. So much like her.

 

 

 

 

 

“Sorry. Did I wake you?” Ward’s voice is rough, and Kara wonders how long he’d been shouting for before she finally woke up. The thought that she didn’t wake instantly chills her to the core. Kara knows that she’s been trained better than this, and she should have heard him. Should have been instantly alert. Kara firmly closes the door on the barrage of doubts that threaten to assault her and, instead, focuses on the man lying in front of her, trying to muster his features into an expression of calm.

 

 

 

 

 

“Who’s Skye?” Kara doesn’t bother with platitudes. She knows that she has to get information. Ward looks like he could lapse into unconsciousness at any minute and Kara needs him to focus. Needs him to get them out of here.

 

 

 

 

 

“I don’t know.” He sounds bewildered, his voice barely more than a whisper now, and his eyes flutter closed. His breathing’s shallow and Kara pulls the sheets away from where they bind his chest. She’s reassured by the symmetrical rise and fall she sees, and the fact that his pulse is steady, if a little more rapid than she’d like.

 

 

 

 

 

Kara slides to the floor, back against the wall, hugging her knees to her chest. She knows that she won’t be getting any more sleep tonight. She watches Ward’s dreams start afresh, watches as he tries to escape his past and fails over and over again. She listens as he repeats a single word like it could be his shield against a raging storm.

 

 

 

 

 

_Skye, Skye, Skye_

 

 

 

 

 

++++

 

 

 

 

 

Kara’s not entirely sure how many days it takes for Ward’s fever to break. She spends most of the time in a daze, too afraid to sleep in case she wakes to find that Ward’s no longer breathing. She removes the tube in his chest after the first night, trickles watered down broth into his mouth whenever he seems lucid enough to swallow and wraps cold flannels across his forehead when he’s not. She checks his wounds, but they’re clean and she can’t find anything to fix. She feels utterly helpless and completely alone for the first time in months. She sits by Ward’s bed and reminds him that he promised her they’d do this together. She remembers the Quinjet, only a short walk away, but there’s barely enough fuel to take off, let alone to get anywhere useful. Kara curses Ward for getting her into this, unleashing an impressive string of curses in his general direction.

 

 

 

 

 

“You said ‘inconsiderate fucking asshole’ twice.” His voice is weak, but it’s lucid. And it’s the first thing he’s said in days that’s more than a single name. The relief that Kara feels almost overwhelms her, and she can feel the hot sting of tears at the back of her throat.

 

 

 

 

 

“Yeah, well, it was so accurate that it bore repeating.” Kara can’t quite keep the smile out of her voice.

                                                   

 

 

 

 

“I seem to have that effect on people these days.” Ward shrugs a shoulder and offers Kara the weakest grin she’s ever seen. She’s not sure if it’s the words or his near-death experience that’s wiped the expression of invincibility from his face. She’d do anything to have it back. Kara’s exhausted and what she needs now is someone with answers and the skills necessary to get them out of here, not another lost soul searching for answers.

 

 

 

 

 

“Well, next time you run into one of them, I’d suggest that you don’t wait around long enough for them to find a gun.” Kara pushes herself up from the chair where she’s spent the majority of her time since they got here. She’s hit by a wave of nausea, the slight ache in her temples becoming more insistent, a reminder from her body that she needs rest too. “If you’re okay here I’m going to lie down for a bit.” Kara words are interrupted with a yawn that she can’t quite manage to smother. Ward nods at her as she turns to leave.

 

 

 

 

“Hey, Kara?” Ward says it just as she reaches the door. She turns back to look at him, his face half-hidden by shadows. “Thank you.” Kara wonders how much it cost him to say.

 

 

 

 

 

++++

 

 

 

 

 

Ward’s recovery is nothing short of remarkable. Kara’s not sure if he’s actually feeling better, or if he’s just decided that he’s not going to be ill any more. His face is still pale, dark bruises under his eyes, but he’s in the kitchen when she wakes and there’s a fresh pot of coffee on the table. Kara raises her eyebrows in a silent query as he places a plate of eggs, toast and bacon down in front of her. She’s been subsisting almost entirely on cans of soup up to this point and she has no idea where he’s suddenly produced this from.

 

 

 

 

 

“I called in a couple of favors,” he shrugs, “Went out for a bit. You’ve been asleep a while.” There’s a slight crease between his brows, a look of concern that she’s not used to seeing.

 

 

 

 

 

“What?” Kara wraps her hands around her coffee mug, inhaling the comforting aroma that slowly envelops her.

 

 

 

 

 

“You’ve been asleep for three days, Kara. I couldn’t wake you no matter what I did.” Ward eyes her warily, as though uncertain of how she’ll react to this news. “I think it’s part of what they did to you.”

 

 

 

 

 

“You mean part of what Whitehall did to me?” Kara can’t quite manage to keep the bitterness from her voice. She still can’t remember anything from her life before. She spent days sitting at Ward’s bedside attempting to conjure images of her past, of a childhood she knows that she must have had. She found nothing but empty spaces and an overwhelming sense of loss. Eventually she just stopped trying.

 

 

 

 

 

“Yes,” Ward pauses, as though he’s unsure if he should continue. Kara can almost see the moment when he makes up his mind. “This isn’t who you are.”

 

 

 

 

 

“That’s not exactly news to me, Ward.” There are precisely three things that Kara knows with any degree of certainty; her name, the fact that there’s a gaping emptiness where her past should be, and that she doesn’t have to do this alone. She can already tell that she’s missing vital pieces of herself, doesn’t need Ward to tell her. “Will it get better?” There’s a desperation in her voice that she hates.

 

 

 

 

 

“I don’t know.” Ward’s voice is quiet, and Kara’s suddenly not sure which of them his comment is aimed at. She takes a steadying breath, exhales around the sudden lump in her throat, and slowly starts to eat. Ward offers her the slightest hint of a smile. “I guess we’ll find out.”

 

 

 

 

 

++++

 

 

 

 

It does get better. For Ward. Kara tries not to feel angry about that. In a matter of days the color’s back in his cheeks and he’s busying himself around the cabin as though all he ever wanted to do was build himself a life here in the wilderness. Kara wonders if he’s forgetting his promise to her that they’ll figure it out. He seems to be burying his head in the sand, and Kara’s coming up against nothing but barriers in her mind every time she goes looking for answers. Kara lies awake at night, staring at the ceiling, too afraid to sleep in case the nightmares claim her. She waits for Ward’s voice to pierce the darkness with the name that’s become only too familiar to her in recent weeks. All she hears is silence. She supposes that she should be happy that one of them is managing to hold their demons at bay. She just wishes that it was her.

 

 

 

 

++++

 

 

 

 

 

Kara’s trapped again. Storm clouds gather overhead and the horizon darkens. She can feel the vibrations of distant thunder skating across her skin, a threatening counterpoint to the high-pitched screams that set her teeth on edge. She can’t work out where the noises are coming from, her every movement restricted by bindings that she isn’t able to see. The screams are getting louder, more insistent, increasingly terrified. Fear pulses through her body with every rapid beat of her heart, and she wants nothing more than to run, but her limbs remain motionless.

 

 

 

 

 

She can’t breathe. The terror is becoming a familiar companion, an ever-present sensation that stalks her every moment. There’s a searing pain ripping through her limbs, invisible knives piercing soft flesh, causing an agony that she can’t escape. All of a sudden Kara just _knows_ that she’s the one screaming, that she has the power to make all of this stop. But she can’t. She won’t. She’s stronger than this and she can resist anything they throw at her. There’s a voice calling her name, trying to drag her away from the inky black dread that anchors her in this place. Kara focuses and lightning flashes across her vision, leaving her blind.

 

 

 

 

 

“Hey, hey, you’re okay.” Ward’s voice is loud in her ears, and she realizes that the constraints she’s fighting against are his arms, pinning hers to her sides. She’s shaking violently, hands trembling in Ward’s grip before he slowly releases her at her nod of comprehension. Her fingers are stained crimson, blood beading under her nails, and the searing pain in her arms doesn’t lessen. It takes three long heartbeats before she realizes that there are gouges clawed out of her wrists, deep rents in flesh that she knows she must have put there herself.

 

 

 

 

 

“What happened?” Kara doesn’t really know why she asks. The evidence she needs is written clearly before her in her own flesh and blood. She’s losing her mind and it seems like she’s getting worse with every passing day.

 

 

 

 

 

“Nightmares.” Ward doesn’t elaborate. It doesn’t seem as though he really needs to.

 

 

 

 

 

“I’m getting worse.” Kara tries not to make it sound like an accusation. She’s not even sure at this point if she cares that it does. Every day that passes in this place seems to bring Ward more peace. It’s as though he’s finally laying his ghosts to rest and, much as she wants to be happy for him, she resents that. She thought that they were in this together. That they were going to fight. As a team. At the moment Kara feels as though she’s the only one fighting. And she’s about to be defeated.

 

 

 

 

 

“Yeah.” Ward pushes himself off the bed and Kara shivers at the sudden chill she feels at the loss of body heat. He passes her the small towel that’s draped over the back of the chair beside her bed before sitting, rubbing a hand across his eyes before running it through his hair. He takes a steadying breath, as though he’s about to say something that Kara might not want to hear. She busies herself wiping the worst of the blood from the wounds in her wrists, tries to ignore the sense of dread that’s building in her chest. “We need to get to a Hydra base. See if we can find a way to undo whatever’s happening to you.”

 

 

 

 

 

“A Hydra base? You really think that’s the answer here?” Kara laughs despite herself, but there’s no humor in it, just an acknowledgement of how helpless they are. “They’ll kill us.”

 

 

 

 

 

“Not if we’re smart.” The look Ward gives her contains more than a hint of a challenge. She’s grateful for it. For the reminder that she can be dangerous too. “You up for it?”

 

 

 

 

 

“Sure. After all, if was easy…” Kara’s voice trails off into silence. Ward simply nods, and she can almost see the moment that he pulls his mask firmly into place, erecting the shields that seem almost not to be second nature to him now.

 

 

 

 

 

“You should clean up. There are bandages under the sink in the bathroom. We’ll head out at first light.” Ward makes it sound easy. Somehow Kara knows that it’s going to be anything but.


	3. three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara and Ward leave the relative safety of Ward's cabin and hit the road in search of answers. Unfortunately it seems as though maybe someone's hitting every one of their targets before they manage to get there. Kara's nightmares get worse and it turns out that she and Ward have more in common than she realizes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is self-harm in this chapter. Some is canon-compliant. Some is unintentional. Be aware if it's a trigger for you.

They drive for days. The landscape slowly transitions from the towering green cathedrals of the forest to rolling hills, golden crops dancing in the gentle autumn breeze. Ward seems to have an encyclopedic knowledge of Hydra’s operations, and Kara wonders just how long he’s been involved with them. She doesn’t ask though, unsure if he’ll appreciate her pointing out that he’s about to betray people who thought he was their ally. Ward, for his part, just seems glad to be on the road with a mission to focus on. They spend hours talking strategy, bouncing ideas off each other. Ward decides they’ll start small, work their way from bases that are most likely to be deserted to those where they’re more likely to encounter trouble.

 

 

 

 

 

Kara tries her best to focus on the plan, on the fact that soon she’ll be in a position to get her own identity back. But the dreams are starting to come with increasing regularity. Ward eyes her every morning with a nonchalance that she knows is an act. She can tell that he’s assessing, trying to work out if she’s cracking under the pressure. It’s the only time that she’s truly been glad of the mask that she wears – she’s sure that it’s the only thing that prevents him from being able to see the tension that she can feel coiled under her skin, waiting for release.

 

 

 

 

 

It happens in a dead end town in the middle of the desert, six hours after they raid a Hydra base that’s clearly been abandoned for months. Anything that might have been useful to them had long since been removed, and the building itself was barely standing, deep cracks running along the walls and gouges slashed in the floors. It looked as though someone had unleashed a tornado inside the walls, destroying anything that might been of help in retrieving Kara’s memories. The disappointment still feels like lead in her gut. Ward takes first watch. Kara’s exhausted, the adrenaline that’s been driving her forwards suddenly gone, frustration and disappointment taking its place. She gets careless, forgets that she’s not even safe in her dreams. The nightmare claims her almost as soon as she closes her eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

This time is different. Instead of the empty grey landscape that she’s used to facing, there’s a city spread out before her. It’s hauntingly familiar, but she can’t quite place it. She feels as though there should be people here; that the streets should echo with the sound of laughter. Her head starts to ache, white noise like harsh static reverberating in her mind. Kara ignores the pain, focuses intently on the street ahead and, as if conjured there by nothing more than her own desires, a figure appears, walking slowly towards her. Every nerve in her body is shrieking in agony, her vision flashing red with every step that the stranger takes. She can’t make out his face, shrouded in shadows, but part of her mind is screaming that she knows this man, that he’s important to her. He lifts his face, steps into the light and smiles. Her body ignites.

 

 

 

 

 

She’s not sure how long she’s sitting in the dark, the sound of her own screams hanging in the air. The white tiles are cool on the furnace of her skin, and the pounding in her head starts to ease. She narrows her eyes in protest as the light flickers on, forces them open as she recognizes Ward’s voice murmuring her name.

 

 

 

 

 

He’s standing in the doorway of the bathroom, face pale as he stares at her. There’s a river of dark crimson inching slowly across the floor towards him, trailing from deep gashes in her wrists. The room is heavy with the stench of salt and iron, blood running warm across her skin. It’s the first time she’s seen Ward at a loss. He’s motionless, gripping the doorframe as though the sight before him has rendered him immobile. Kara pulls her knees to her chest, every movement a struggle, as though she’s pulling her limbs through thick, viscous liquid.

 

 

 

 

 

“This isn’t me.” The words blur together as she says them, each syllable slurring into the next. Kara clears her throat and tries again. “This isn’t me. Ward, this isn’t me.” She says it again. And again. Repeats it until the words don’t make sense. Until Ward finally springs into action and binds her wrists, applying pressure hard enough to bruise, before helping her to her feet and sliding an arm under her shoulders so she can stumble back to her bed.

 

 

 

 

 

Kara wakes the next morning to find Ward sitting in a chair next to her bed, one hand wrapped loosely around his gun. There are dark circles under his eyes that speak of another night spent without sleep, and his expression is unreadable.

 

 

 

 

 

“About last night…” Kara’s voice is unsteady, weak, and her words trail off as she realizes that she has no idea how to explain what happened to her. Just thinking about the man from her nightmare is enough to make a wave of nausea crash over her, the world lurching to one side before it settles again.

 

 

 

 

 

“I know.” Ward saves her the trouble of trying to find an explanation that doesn’t sound completely insane. “It seems as though you’ll never get through this, Kara. I get that, believe me. But you will. We’re going to get you through this.” He sounds certain. As though this is an irrefutable fact of life. Kara wonders how he can pretend that she’s anything other than irretrievably broken.

 

 

 

 

 

“You don’t know anything about me. What the hell makes you think you can help?” It comes out more bitterly than she intends, the frustration of the last few weeks suddenly surfacing in the blink of an eye. She knows that it’s not Ward’s fault, but he’s the one standing in the line of fire and there’s nobody else left to blame. Ward, for his part, doesn’t seem offended. She sees him drag in a slow breath, as though steadying himself for what’s coming. He nods slightly before placing his gun on the table beside him and rolling up the cuffs of his shirt. For a moment Kara wonders what the hell he’s doing, but understanding comes quickly.

 

 

 

 

 

Ward holds his arms out in her direction, showing her the scars that mar the otherwise smooth skin at his wrists. He shrugs at her, as though this isn’t the greatest show of trust that either of them have displayed. He’s finally showing her who he is and Kara doesn’t know where to look. She drags her eyes to his face as he clears his throat and breaks the silence.

 

 

 

 

 

“Because I’ve been where you are.” Ward stares at the puckered flesh as though he can will it to disappear. Kara can tell that he’s lost in the past, revisiting something that she can’t hope to understand. She’s relieved when he slowly rolls his sleeves back down, covering the evidence of their shared failures.

 

 

 

 

 

“Is that why you’re doing this? Revenge?” It’s not as though Kara would have a problem with that, just that she needs to know if this is about more than just her.

 

 

 

 

 

“Maybe that’s part of it.” Ward shrugs a shoulder, a wry smile on his face, as though he’s trying to make light of his words. “I let someone tell me who I was once, let them use me as a weapon. Hydra were the ones who made it possible. So, yeah, maybe some of this is about revenge. About destroying an organization that allowed a man to isolate a fifteen year old kid and turn him into a loyal little puppet. A lot of it’s about the fact that I lost everything I wanted because of that. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want payback.” Ward falls silent for a moment and Kara waits patiently for him to continue, not wanting to shatter this fragile bridge between them. “But I want you to be free, Kara. I want you to be able to make your own choices. I want you to have hope.” Ward locks his eyes with hers, the sorrow there almost more than she can fathom. “Anything else is just a bonus.”

 

 

 

 

 

“Okay.” Kara offers him a crooked smile, the mirror image of his, and wonders, not for the first time, how the hell it came to this. Two broken soldiers trying to fight a war that they’re never going to win.

 

 

 

 

 

++++

 

 

 

 

 

“So that was a bust.” Ward’s irritatingly upbeat given the total lack of progress that they’re making. Kara supposes that she should probably be grateful that they’re not dead. “Almost like somebody got here before us.” For a moment Kara thinks that she sees a look of regret on Ward’s face, but it’s gone before she can be sure, nothing more than a slight hint of frustration marking his features.

 

 

 

 

 

“And yet you still somehow found time to destroy a server room, blow up an armory and tie up three guys who ‘probably know more than they’re saying’.” Kara hopes that she fully conveys her irritation with the use of air quotes. She’s almost too afraid to sleep at night, insisting that Ward strap her down in case there’s a repeat of the night that he found her crouched in the corner of a motel bathroom. Kara just wants to make some progress for a change. Ward’s insouciant grin and careless shrug of a shoulder doesn’t do a lot for Kara’s temper.

 

 

 

 

 

“There’s still a whole building we haven’t searched. Could be the one.” Ward reloads his guns, pausing to check that Kara’s doing the same, before pivoting around the corner, and heading towards a door in the wall.

 

 

 

 

 

“Half of Hydra’s probably in there making their last stand. We should leave whilst we still can. Rethink our strategy.” All that Kara really knows is that she doesn’t want to die here, surrounded by the enemy.

 

 

 

 

 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Ward barely breaks stride as he sprints across open ground to shelter, three gunshots announcing the fact that he and Kara are definitely not alone. Kara shakes her head in exasperation before indicating that Ward should lay down covering fire. She takes a deep breath, offers up a silent prayer to whoever’s listening that she makes it through this, and dashes across the terrifyingly open space to join him.

 

 

 

 

 

“What took you so long?” Ward’s grin seems genuine and Kara wonders if she’d be at a significant disadvantage if she took the time to punch him in the face. She concludes, somewhat regretfully, that she really does need him. She satisfies herself by glaring at him until he huffs out an amused breath. “Hey, this is the first base we’ve found that’s still got operational satellite feeds, Kara. This could be the one that gives us answers. Don’t know about you, but I’m feeling optimistic today.”

 

 

 

 

 

“I feel like those are famous last words.” The ground beside them erupts in a storm of gunfire. Kara’s torn between feeling smug that she was right, and terrified that they’re going to die before she has a chance to remember who she really is. This is the fourth base that they’ve infiltrated, and the sixth firefight she’s almost certain that they’re not going to make it out of alive. Kara takes a deep breath and follows Ward into the chaos.

 

 

 

 

 

++++

 

 

 

 

 

“See, I told you it was going to be fine. Easy.” Ward’s face is smeared with dust and there’s blood smeared across his forehead from a cut above his right eyebrow. He’s got a rapidly purpling bruise on his cheek and Kara thinks that Ward’s definition of fine is probably not the same as hers. It hasn’t taken them as long as she thought it would to neutralize the enemy threat -- given the amount of gunfire they’d heard Kara was expecting dozens of guards, not the eight that they actually found.

 

 

 

 

 

“You and I do not have the same idea about what constitutes ‘easy’, Ward. I just want you to know that.” Kara has to admit, though, that Ward’s good mood is infectious. She does finally feel as though they’re making progress. As though perhaps they’re one step closer to finally getting her back her memories and allowing her to sleep at night. Kara and Ward inch along the corridor, alert for any signs of the enemy. Ward finally halts beside a door marked FAUSTUS and holsters his guns.

 

 

 

 

 

“You ready for this?” Ward waits as Kara takes two steadying breaths. She’s not sure that she’s ever going to be ready for what’s behind this door, but she’s also certain that she can’t carry on like this. Finally she curls her hands into fists, the sharp bite of her nails on her own palms focusing her mind, and nods once. Ward swings the door open, and Kara’s not sure what she expected, but it sure as hell wasn’t this.

 

 

 

 

 

The room itself is fairly nondescript but there are drifting piles of ash dotted around across the floor, smoke spilling skywards through huge holes that have been smashed in the windows that line one side of the room. A computer screen lies in pieces beside a metal frame that’s been blown apart in a corner, twisted lumps of metal lodged in the walls. Kara feels a chill race up her spine at the sight, a familiar dread turning her stomach, although she’s sure she’s never been here before. Ward stands beside her, all signs of his earlier good humor now completely absent as he takes in the scene before them. Kara sees his face drain of color and she turns to see what he’s looking at. On the back wall, in black letters sprayed a foot high, she sees a message: _N33.40.636 W106.28.525 WE’LL TAKE ONE HEAD AT A TIME AND WE’LL SINK YOU_

 

 

 

 

 

“That mean something to you?” Kara doesn’t even know why she asks. She can see the moment that Ward’s face closes off, the way that he shuts her out telling her everything that she needs to know. “Ward?”

 

 

 

 

 

“It’s not important, Kara. Just reminded me of someone.” It’s the first time in weeks that Kara’s heard that echo of loss in his voice. She realizes how much she’s come to depend on Ward to be the strong one. The thought that he might not be as invulnerable as she likes to think is sobering. “C’mon. Let’s see if there’s anything on the computers.” Ward’s voice drifts into silence as he walks around one of the desks. Kara follows him, needing the proximity of another human being in this place that makes her feel as though she’s about to lose her mind.

 

 

 

 

 

“Not what you were expecting?” Kara has no idea what to make of the graphic that’s bouncing across the screen, an eagle biting the head off an octopus over and over again.

 

 

 

 

 

“The opposite actually.” Ward’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes, and Kara’s fairly sure that he’s thinking of his own ghosts.

 

 

 

 

 

“Is there anything here we can use?” Kara doesn’t really hold out much hope, and the feeling is becoming depressingly familiar. She’s not ready to give up, she’s too angry with what she’s been turned into for that, but she’s a realist. She knows that there’s a limit to what can be done when they’re on the back foot at every turn.

 

 

 

 

 

“Sorry, Kara. It looks like the drives have been wiped. We’re too late.” There’s a hint of irritation in Ward’s voice. Kara wonders if it’s the fact that they haven’t made progress or that someone seems to have beaten them to the information yet again. She and Ward leave the base in silence, Ward pausing to activate some kind of beacon that Kara hasn’t quite worked out the purpose of. She can tell that he’s lost in his own head though, and she doesn’t want to pry. She knows how it feels to want to have something that belongs only to you. They get in the car and drive to the next set of coordinates, hoping for a change in their fortunes.


	4. four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where they finally run into a certain someone, and Ward and Kara have to make a difficult decision.

Ward keeps telling her that she has to sleep. She tries not to think about it, more focused on the fact that her dreams are beginning to get darker, a sure sign that one of her nightmares is about to hit. He says that the longer she tries to fight it, the worse it’s going to be, but she still wants to delay the moment for as long as she can. Finally, the exhaustion becomes too much and she tells him that it’s time. That he has to strap her down for her own safety. He protests, as he always does; tells her that he’ll stay awake and stop her from hurting herself. She doesn’t tell him that she sees herself fire bullet after bullet at his chest in her sleep, delighted at the spray of blood that coats the featureless landscape with lurid color. She knows that it’s part of the programming, but she doesn’t want to find out what would happen if she found herself fighting him in that dream state.

 

 

 

 

The same city streets stretch out before her. Kara knows her way now, this landscape as familiar to her as the black oblivion that sometimes holds her tight. She runs down deserted lanes, looking for anything that might tell her why she keeps coming back here. She passes the same abandoned playground that she does every time she ends up here, and she’s sure that she can hear childish laughter, carried on a wind that she can’t feel. She comes to a crossroads and she pauses, knowing that if she turns right she’ll find a man who will step into the light, a warm smile on his face, and destroy her mind. She can feel her feet begin to turn, every part of her desperate to feel the sense of belonging that the stranger brings. But she forces herself to turn towards the unknown and starts to run again, afraid that she’ll change her mind. The sound of laughter grows louder, and Kara comes to an abrupt halt as she hears a woman’s voice calls her name. She feels a phantom hand brush her cheek and another grasp her hand, the ghost of warm lips against her skin. Kara’s woken by Ward shaking her shoulder, his features hidden in the darkness and shadowed by his own ghosts. She wipes a hand across her cheek, surprised when it comes away damp. She can taste the ocean, salt-sharp, on her lips.

 

 

 

 

 

“Time to move.” Ward already has their bags packed, and somehow he’s managed to undo her restraints without her waking. She’s not sure if he ever sleeps any more. She wonders if he just sits in a semi-wakeful state, waiting in the dark for his fate to arrive. “This is the last base I can think of that's likely have what we need, but we need to get there before anyone else. It’s likely to be better guarded than the last few places too. There are things there that Hydra went to a great deal of trouble to obtain.” Kara doesn’t ask. Ward’s told her enough about his role in the downfall of SHIELD for her to put things together. She’s fairly certain from the look on his face that he was part of the trouble. She wonders how much of this is about helping her, and how much of it is about him trying to make amends. Kara wonders if maybe they’re not such different things.

 

 

 

 

 

Infiltrating the base is easy under the cover of darkness. Kara’s actually surprised by how few guards they encounter, and that the path to the lab that Ward has marked on the map is free of enemies. They reach the point where Ward has indicated that he’s going to split off and try to replenish their rapidly diminishing resources -- turns out that you burn through both ammunition and money at equal rates when you’re an army of two -- and Kara nods to indicate that she knows what her role is. She just needs to find the lab, get the intel, and get out. She ignores the butterflies in her stomach. This is just a mission. She’s done dozens like this for Whitehall and part of her knows that there were missions before that too. She just needs to remember.

 

 

 

 

The lab is eerily silent, although all the lights are on when Kara slides around the door. There’s no sign of the equipment that they’ve found destroyed at the other bases though. Kara feels her heart sink as she realizes that this is yet another dead-end. She walks over to the bank of computers and sees the same graphic that they found at the last base, jumping across the screen. Kara closes her eyes, draws in a steadying breath, and tries to ignore the wave of disappointment that washes over her.

 

 

 

 

“Put your hands up and turn around. Slowly.” Kara jumps as the words echo around the room. She curses inwardly that she allowed herself to be distracted. Ward’s going to be disappointed when he discovers that she’s been stupid enough to let herself be captured. She’d assured him that she didn’t need his company in the lab. So sure that she’d be fine on her own. She’s surprised to see that she recognizes the owner of the voice when she turns to face her.

 

 

 

 

 

“What are you doing here?” Gone is the smile that Kara remembers, replaced by a hard look of fierce determination. “Come back to catch up with some old friends?” The bright neon lights glint off the barrel of the gun that’s aimed at Kara’s chest.

 

 

 

 

 

“No. I’m looking for answers. I want to know who I am.” Kara decides that she might as well just tell the truth. She has nothing left to lose anyway.

 

 

 

 

“I offered you that once before. You weren’t interested.” The girl in front of her lets the gun drift slightly downwards, no longer quite so threatening. “What changed?”

 

 

 

 

“Whitehall died,” Kara shrugs, “and I found that I didn’t know who I was any more. I had a purpose with him. Now, though…” Kara lets the thought drift between them.

 

 

 

 

“You feel lost?” As the girl says it the gun finally makes it all the way down to her side, as she clearly decides that Kara’s not a significant threat. Kara finds that darkly amusing given the way that they’d basically tried to kill each other at their last meeting. This girl is a constant surprise. “We can help you.” Her tone is earnest, as though she honestly believes what she’s saying.

 

 

 

 

 

“You sound so sure of that.” Kara knows that the girl’s talking about SHIELD. But Kara’s quite clearly the enemy, and she has no idea why they’d bother to help her.

 

 

 

 

 

“I _am_ sure of it. You can trust me.” The smile is genuine, lighting up the girl’s face and turns her into a different person. “My name’s Skye.” She says it as though she’s giving Kara a gift.

 

 

 

 

 

Kara just accepts it with a silent smile. She thinks that it’s wiser not to mention to Skye that she knows who she is. That she knows her name. After all, it was the only word Ward said for days after Kara pulled him out of Puerto Rico. Kara pushes away a vivid memory of Ward, lying in the dark on a filthy bed, blood crusting his shirt, calling Skye’s name in his sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

That’s not Kara’s secret to tell.

 

 

 

 

 

As though she’s conjured him there with her thoughts alone, Kara sees Ward dart through the doorway, guns drawn. He freezes at the sight of Skye who, for her part, swings her own gun up in a practiced motion that Kara thinks Ward would be proud of. Kara can see Ward’s breathing kick up a notch, notes the fine tremor in his left hand as he forces himself to keep his weapons steady and pointed directly at Skye’s chest. Kara wonders if Skye knows how much it costs him.

 

 

 

 

 

“What the hell is _he_ doing here?” Skye’s voice is savage. Kara can hear the bitter disappointment that laces Skye’s words. Kara’s not sure who Skye’s anger is directed at, just feels it as this vague shadow that hangs over all three of them. Kara doesn’t fail to notice the fact that Skye’s deliberately not talking to Ward though.

 

 

 

 

“Ward’s my friend.” Kara decides that the truth is probably going to be the only thing to save them. She sees the moment that Skye registers her words. The disbelieving exhale of laughter that accompanies it.

 

 

 

 

“Oh yeah? Well I hope you can breathe underwater. Or fly.” Skye’s words are placed with precision, clearly intended to wound. Kara can see the moment that they hit, but other than the clench of his jaw, Ward doesn’t give Skye the satisfaction of a response. He remains silent, face expressionless, as Skye continues. “Ward doesn’t have any friends. Not any more.”

 

 

 

 

 

“He has me.” Kara keeps it simple, fully aware of the complexity of Skye and Ward’s shared history. She knows about Skye, and about the team. She’s managed to worm small parts of the story out of Ward during their long drives across country, gradually earning enough pieces to start making sense of the puzzle. She’s seen first hand the way that Skye reacted to Ward at their last meeting, remembers the night that Ward nearly died as a result. She just hopes that it’ll be enough for Skye to know that Ward’s got one person that cares about him. That he can’t be all bad.

 

 

 

 

 

“Yeah? Well that’s _your_ problem." Skye and Ward don't take their eyes off each other and Kara's finding it hard to breathe through the tension that fills the room. She takes a steadying breath and moves between the two of them, hands raised slightly towards Skye, reassurance that she's not a threat. She hears Ward holster one of his weapons and hopes like hell that the other is also dropping to his side. There's a long moment where Skye seems to be making up her mind about something, throat working before she finally places her gun on the desk beside her. "There's a number you can call. When he lets you down too. He knows what it is.” Skye shifts her gaze to where Ward stands behind Kara, finally, directly addresses Ward. “You’d better run. The rest of the team’s on the way, and I’m willing to bet that none of them will be as keen as I am to let you go.”

 

 

 

 

 

“And why are you?” Kara asks, “Letting us go, I mean.” She’s asking more for Ward’s benefit than her own, knowing that he’s barely keeping it together. She’s just relieved that they’re both going to be getting out of here in one piece.

 

 

 

 

 

“Honestly? I don’t want to have to deal with what happens when he’s around.” Skye voice is quiet, the sting of betrayal still heavy in her tone, mingling with something else that Kara can’t quite figure out. “We’re better off without him.” Skye picks up her weapon again and uses it to gesture towards the door. Kara doesn’t need to be told twice, but she practically has to drag Ward out of the door, every one of his muscles rigid under her touch, as though he’s fighting the urge to move towards Skye. Kara doesn’t want to give Skye any excuse to finish the job she started all those months ago, redoubles her efforts, and finally manages to pull Ward from the room.

 

 

 

 

++++

 

 

 

 

“You want to talk about it?” Kara waits until they’re in the relative safety of the car before she asks. There’s a long pause, and she begins to think that Ward isn’t going to answer her. That he’s going to continue to clench his jaw and stare into the middle distance. He hasn’t spoken since he saw Skye.

 

 

 

 

“Not tonight.” Ward’s voice is barely more than a whisper. They drive on in silence.

 

 

 

 

++++

 

 

 

 

After that, they keep coming up empty. Every base has been raided by SHIELD long before they get there, and Ward’s becoming increasingly withdrawn. Kara, for her part, is just trying to cling to her belief that they’ll find a way to get her back her identity. The list that Ward carefully drew up whilst they were still safe in his cabin is scored through with lines that represent their multiple failures and single success -- in one of the bases they found a sedative that stops the dreams. Kara no longer has to sleep with her hands and feet bound, and the dark circles under Ward’s eyes are slowly starting to fade. Kara supposes that it’s something. She doesn’t ask Ward if he knows why it was the only thing on that base left untouched. After all, neither of them is stupid. They both know that Skye had been there before them, her particular brand of humor stamped all over the walls. She wonders if Ward thinks about what it means.

 

 

 

 

 

They’re somewhere in Vermont when Ward finally breaks his silence. Kara’s anxiously turning a mostly empty pill-bottle over in her hands. They’re running out of sedative and Kara knows that they’re going to have to make some difficult choices.

 

 

 

 

 

“She showed you that she can help. That she _wants_ to help you.” Ward doesn’t need to elaborate further. They both know exactly what he’s talking about. It’s the only option that neither of them has been ready to broach until now. “Maybe you should let her.” Ward still hasn’t said Skye’s name in all the months that they’ve been traveling, but Kara doesn’t have to ask who he’s talking about. The effort that the words cost him tells her everything that she needs to know.

 

 

 

 

“Oh yeah? What if she wants to help me the same way she helped you?” Kara’s had enough of the vague excuses that Ward throws her way every time the subject touches on his past. She figures that if he’s the one that’s starting the conversation then maybe she’ll get the answers she wants.

 

 

 

 

 

“She had her reasons for that, trust me. I was supposed to be the one to protect her, and then I was the enemy. I turned my back on her…” His voice drifts off and Kara looks over to see a wry smile on his face. He takes a steadying breath before he continues, clearly determined to say his piece. “She’ll help you, Kara. That’s who she is.” Ward pulls the car over to the side of the road and turns in his seat to look at Kara. She doesn’t remember ever seeing him this concerned. “We’ll run out of that sedative in three days, and I don’t think that the nightmares are going to be better; I think they’ll be worse. No matter how much I might want to, I give you the help you need. You need to make that call.”

 

 

 

 

“Oh yeah? Well I’ll call if you tell me why I should trust SHIELD.” As far as Kara’s concerned, that’s what lies at the heart of the problem. All that she has is an overwhelming fear that SHIELD are going to rip her apart, leave her with only scattered pieces that she can never hope to put back together. She doesn’t know if it’s a planted memory or not. And the thought terrifies her. That perhaps she’ll go through all of this and she still won’t know what’s real and what’s fiction.

 

 

 

 

“Don’t trust SHIELD, Kara. Trust Skye. She’ll keep you safe.” Ward’s voice wraps around Skye’s name as though he’s been waiting to say it for all this time. Kara can hear the sincerity and the belief that Skye will do the right thing. She wishes that she were as certain as he clearly is. She has no idea why he believes in Skye, given the tone of their last meeting. But Kara knows that he’s the only person to see her for someone worth saving, and she trusts his opinion implicitly.

 

 

 

 

“Like _you_ keep me safe?” They may not have succeeded in their aim, but Ward’s managed to protect her through everything. She may have scars on her skin that weren’t there before, but she’s alive. And she’s fighting. And he’s the only one that’s been there through it all.

 

 

 

 

“Better than I ever could.” Ward offers her a small smile, as though he’s aware of how absurd his statement sounds. Kara knows, though, that he wouldn’t say it if he didn’t believe it to be true. She reaches out and runs a finger along the scars at his wrist that he no longer bothers to hide.

 

 

 

 

“You’d better not do anything stupid whilst I’m gone.” Kara waits until he finally looks her in the eye.

 

 

 

 

“I promise.”


End file.
